


Remembrance

by InsufferableIdiot



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Explicit Language, Hopeful Ending, Inferiority Complex, Lonliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Mystery, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsufferableIdiot/pseuds/InsufferableIdiot
Summary: "I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become." - Carl JungShizuo searches for answers after Izaya's death. He realizes he must play a part in Izaya's plan in order to discover them.





	1. 1

It was routine.  

  

Izaya would send me a decorated card three times a year accompanied with a small gift. New Years, my birthday, and Christmas. I'd be lying if I said I never enjoyed them. At first I didn't. The first card I received I ripped it to shreds and threw it in the trash along with the present.  _They were worthless to me._  

  

This started three years ago; I never sent one back.  

  

It was always Izaya.  

  

But then again, maybe it never was.  

  

I learned there are many sides to him. Not just a couple but with every card I read I saw another side. There was anger, loneliness, hysteria, insanity, and so many more. He never signed the cards or gifts but I always knew it was him. I could hear the small laughter in his writing. I could picture the shit-eating grins.  _I could taste blood._     
  
 

I'm not embarrassed to say that I smelled them.    
  
  
   
To be quite honest, I grew to love the smell he brought. He smelled like home—he wasn't home though; not at all. I've always wanted to distance myself from him as far as possible.  

   

**"And as the cold drowns us, the lights will bring warmth and comfort over us all. "**

**_Merry Christmas, Shizu-chan_   **

  

I received this Christmas morning. There wasn't a gift this time. This card was different than the others. This wasn't loneliness, anger, or laughter. It was sadness, which was completely unassociated with Izaya's nature.  He never showed or wrote such a thing but then again, who am I to assume? In the back of my mind I did wonder, 'Maybe it's just about winter, how cold it is and how the lights are beautiful at night.'  

  

_Simplicity._

 

Maybe.  

  

But then again, maybe not at all.  

  

I'm still not sure what it meant; I think that was his intention all along. 

 

* * *

  
  
I actually bought a card for him. After three years I picked up a card at the convenience store around the corner. I signed my name and wrote nothing else, I had no idea what to say. I'm sure it would've made no difference whether I wrote something or not. A signature would suffice.   
   
   
After all, _I had nothing to say to_ _him_ _._  

  

My brother called me after I got back home and asked to see me for the afternoon. I was happy about the call, I haven't seen Kasuka for months. He offered to meet at a small café a few blocks away from my apartment in an hour. He explained how this was his treat and how he wanted it not to be a hassle for me. I declined at first, obviously. I offered to go someplace near his, however, my brother has always been persistent.  

    
The café was quiet.  _Peaceful._  Surprisingly I've never been to it despite it being so close to where I reside. I ordered a small black coffee. Normally, I'd add sugar—that day was different, though. As was the rest after that. I wanted to taste the bitterness that Christmas afternoon and now, I crave it daily.  

  

More so than a cigarette.  

  

Kasuka and I caught up on many things. We discussed how I've been, the new movie he's starring in, the weather, and his precious girlfriend. I forced him to talk about her. I was so interested that he found someone he actually  _loved_. He admitted he didn't but I could tell with the way his eyes lit up and the small, shy smile he had when he described her.  

  

"Her name's Ruri."  

  

"That's a pretty name." He smiled at this.  

  

"It is, brother, it is."  

  

* * *

  
   
After Kasuka and I departed ways I went back to my apartment. I checked the time, 4:36 pm.  _I will forever remember that time._     
  
 

We talked for roughly three hours and I loved every minute of it. My time with my little brother is something I cherish. We both agreed as we said our goodbyes that we should start seeing each other more.  

  

"Yes, we haven't been talking much recently, have we?"  

  

"Not much. Kinda want to have more of these."  

  

"That would be nice, brother. I'll call you soon and we can arrange another meetup."  

  

"Arrange?"  

  

"You know what I mean."  

   

* * *

 

I had the card placed beside me. For three hours I was contemplating walking to Izaya's apartment. Not to his one in Shinjuku because surprisingly, he actually delivers the cards and gifts in person. He knocks on the door, leaves it outside, and departs before I can see who's there. I know he delivers them personally. I asked my neighbor when this first started if he saw the person who dropped it off.  

  

"Uh, yeah. Black hair, had a fur coat or something. Wasn't really paying attention, friend of yours?"  

  

"Not really."  Because  _really_ , he wasn’t a friend. 

  

I also catch him walking around Ikebukuro on those days. I never bother with him then, instead I would raise a poorly made cup of eggnog in my mind to him and hope, silently, that he wasn't cold. 

 

And yeah, Celty's eggnog is vile enough to send someone puking for the rest of the week but I drink it because I know I'm  _blessed_  to have these people by my side.  

  

I stopped procrastinating, picked up the card, put on my coat, and walked out. His apartment wasn't too far. I welcomed the cold breeze that hit my face, I inhaled the winter air. There's a certain smell that winter brings that chills you to the  _bone_. I noticed almost no one was walking the streets and why would they? As I kept moving I studied just how beautiful winter in this city is at night. The snow falling silently is one of the most peaceful moments. You see, snow is different from rain.  

  

Snow is  _silent._   

  

Rain is  _loud._   

  

Do you understand? It's so simple. A simple thought from a simple mind. 

  

I noticed how the Christmas lights shine so brightly against the city. It's as if they're calling out for you:  

  

 _Look at how beautiful I am._   

  

 _Look at the warmth I bring._   

  

 _Look at the comfort I give._   

  

 ** _Cherish this._  ** 

  

* * *

 

   
I was outside Izaya's door. All I had to do was knock, leave the card, and walk away. It was foolish of me but I wanted to see him. I wanted to ask why he does this.  

  

Why do you send me these cards?  

  

What did that quote mean?  

  

What does it mean to you?  

  

So I knocked. There was no movement coming from inside.  

  

I knocked harder. Maybe he didn't hear it.  

 

Nothing. 

  

 _Louder._  

  

"Izaya, open the door."  

 

 _Silence._  

  

For a reason that is still unknown to me  _(_ _is_ _it really?)_ , I was worried. Of course, when he wrote me cards that hinted at loneliness I did feel uneasy at times.   

  

This was different, I sensed something.  

 

Izaya has always been right about my monstrous instincts.  

  

My heart was starting to beat faster as the silence stretched on. I could almost hear Izaya laughing at how idiotic I was acting. 

  

I decided, fuck it—fuck _him_ _,_  I'll break it down.  

  

So I did.  

  

As I slowly walked deeper into his apartment, the scent of iron infiltrated my nose. It was nauseating. I knew that the smell of iron, most of the time, is blood. As you obviously know this smell is common for me.  

 

 _I despise it._  

  

I came into his main room. I flipped the light switch and watch the room come to life. I took in the bookshelves, the computers, the large window that looks out over the city. Then, I took in Izaya painted in blood.  

  

And I vomited on his pristine floor.  

  

It's funny. I come across blood and injuries daily and I've never gotten sick before. Mentally? Sure, it upsets me, but I've never had such a physical reaction to it.  

  

This is different.  

  

Exaggerations are worse than understatements but in that moment of panic and maelstrom, I could only see a pool of blood surrounding Izaya. The back of his head resting on the side of the couch as his body lays lifelessly on the floor, eyes closed, surrounded by dark red.   

  

Without the blood, you'd think he was peacefully sleeping.  

  

I ran to him. My heart was racing, my stomach was aching, and I couldn't think coherently. I could feel my heartbeat in my teeth. By then I could tell he was dead. In fact, he may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several hours ago, mentally, ages ago.  

 

_Please let there be a pulse, I'll take him anyway I can._

  

I drop down on my knees as I shake him. His neck rolls lifelessly to the side and his body falls into me when I let go. I saw the slices on his wrist. How could you miss them? There were two clean cuts, one on each arm vertically running down his wrist. I saw his switchblade laying next to him.  

  

He cut the arteries.  

  

I understood, in that brief moment, that he wanted this. He wanted this more than anything.  

  

His skin was porcelain, his body was ice, and he was dead weight in my arms.  

  

It was then I noticed the wall behind me. What he was looking at as he bled out. In large, ragged letters said,  

   

**_"And as the cold drowns us, the lights will bring warmth and comfort over us all."_  **

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "By then I could tell he was dead. In fact, he may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several hours ago, mentally, ages ago." -Battle Royale


	2. 2

"Ultimately, funerals help us embrace the wonder of life and death."

 

That line is such bullshit.

 

It's something Izaya would spout about in the goddamn cards. In the end, who gives a shit? Dead, forgotten, over in a fucking instant.

 

But then you start to understand how nothing mattered.

 

_If I knew about this day, would I have kept going?_

 

_Knowing everything when I met him, would I have just walked right past him?_

 

_Would I have believed he never existed in the first place?_

 

There I was, standing in the cold and gazing at the lilies surrounding a too-old picture of Izaya. Comparing the face I saw a few days ago to his last year in high school? You have the few similarities: hair color, eye color, nose—y'know, the basics. Besides that? Nothing. There's no connection between the hollowed out cheeks, rings under his eyes, translucent skin, thinning hair, _blood._

 

The last time I saw him before his suicide I will admit, he was different. Actually, he was goddamn _insane_. His speech was too fast and he was shaking everywhere and talking about the _walls_ and _ghosts_. However, to expect this? To expect someone as knowledgeable and confident as he was to bleed out before giving answers? Then again, his answers were always paradoxical—his ego unmeasurable. I know, with absolute confidence, that everything went according to his plan. It infuriates me that he can still mess with me after death. He's probably in hell dancing with the tortured.

 

_No, Shizuo. Don't think such vile things here._

 

Our last conversation replays in my mind to the point of comical rage. I'm sure he would laugh at how his words, the way they delicately slide off his tongue, still haunt me. I kept myself back in that room—a small part still left in the corner. I'm not capable of going back and retrieving it. Am I scared?

 

No, scared isn't the right word.

 

It's as if I left the last bit of my innocence in that abandoned and bitter cold room. Isn't that funny? Me, having innocence to begin with?

 

What a fucking joke.

 

* * *

 

He stopped mid sentence as he placed his index finger on his lips,

 

"Shh, Shizu-chan."

 

"Don't-" He cuts me off again.

 

"Shh. The walls, can't you hear them? They're speaking nonsense again."

 

I stared at him wide-eyed. I could see the hesitant fear in Izaya's eyes.

 

"There are ghosts in the walls, Shizu-chan. They crawl in your head through your ears."

 

"You're fucking insane."

 

"Maybe." He mumbles.

 

The silence was overwhelming. Silence interprets peace, but this was not peace. This was bone-chilling—what? What was it?

 

The moonlight casting through the window over his skin made him seem like a sculpture. He looked angelic in every way, and as dangerous as this city.

 

He shifted his trance-like gaze back to me. Then, as slow and soft as honey, he spoke again.

 

"But then again, maybe not."

 

I studied the way his lips moved so slowly. His throat so slim and vulnerable, the temptation to ring his neck and shake him back to his conscious, clever self was almost irrepressible.

 

"Aw, Shizu-chan. Don't stare at me like that."

 

"Like what?" He moved from his place and started to saunter around me in a wide circle. A predator circling his prey ready to attack. I was not prepared for anything physical to come for I was too absorbed in what he'd say next.

 

"Like a small and distressed little boy at a loss of what to do. Kill me? _You feel as if you shouldn't_. Why shouldn't you? _You think this isn't the time_. Why isn't this the time? _Well, you're not quite sure of that yourself, are you?_ "

 

I turned around to face him.

 

"Fuck you. Like you know shit about what I think." The anger was bubbling in my veins.

 

"I know you better than yourself. It's why you hate me." He smiled and folded his hands behind his back as he kept circling.

 

"Do you always believe everything you say? I'm not your fucking toy like the rest of them."

 

The laugh that echoed off the walls was nauseating.

 

"Like the rest of whom?" He questions with a smile.

 

"Those damn teenagers that you manipulate. The people you play with and ruin their lives for your own twisted, fucked up type of humor."

 

He stopped in his tracks and turned to me with clenched fists and bared teeth.

 

"They come to me, Shizu-chan. They come to me and ask for help, they ask for the truth. So, I give them what they want."

 

"Is this what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night?"

 

"Understand this, you brute-"

 

"Do you think they actually love you?"

 

It was then, when I saw his eyes, realization and fear struck me. I should've shut my mouth and allowed him to finish. He jumped on me and we fell to the floor, the back of my head slamming against concrete.

 

As my vision kept focusing and un-focusing I felt Izaya's hands around my throat. I watched his eyelids turn to mere slits and his eyelashes form a shadow over dark red. I held my breath as his smile grew and complete hysteria took over him. _This is it_ , I thought. _This is what it looks like when the walls crumble._

 

"I don't care if they do! They can all loathe me! I still love them," I could feel his hands growing tighter and tighter around my throat. Suffocation never felt so deserved.

 

I allowed this to happen. I could've stopped this at anytime.

 

"I have to love them, dear Shizu-chan. Do you understand now? I need to know everything about them so I can love them even more! All the faults, the lies, the deception!" He yelled in my face.

 

I didn't understand. _How could I possibly understand_?

 

Saliva was spat in my face with every word he shouted.

 

"These ghosts though, how can I love them? They're monsters, just like you. I will take the burden of carrying these for my humans. I will spare them from this madness. I will be their savior, my dear!"

 

His hands around my throat was my largest excuse for being speechless.

 

"You know, Shizu-chan, you could easily kill me! You can throw me off and bash my skull in! Why aren't you? Why aren't you doing anything?"

 

_Please stop._

 

_Don't make me do this. I'm not the monster you say I am._

 

His hands growing tighter and tighter, pushing me to the edge of blacking out. I'm human, my body is still capable of failing from lack of air.

 

"Where's that monstrous strength? Show me—show how much you hate me!"

 

_You fucking idiot._

 

* * *

 

No matter how many times I recall our last conversation I cannot put the pieces together. However, one thing that was to be expected, no one's here. A single word that he loathed the most when describing him is the only one to describe this piss poor excuse of a funeral.

 

_Lonely._

 

What, did you actually expect people to come? Maybe to dance and scream profanities. If you knew him like I did, like everyone did, you'd understand no one would bother. Still, there are two people who I actually did expect to stop by.

 

I took my phone out of my coat pocket and dialed a number that's etched into my brain. After two rings, a lively voice answered.

 

"Hello, Shizuo-kun!" He sounded... happy.

 

"Why aren't you here?"

 

"Where?"

 

"Don't bullshit me." I clenched my teeth.

 

"Well, Shizuo-kun, why are you there?"

 

"'Cause I am, why aren't you? Stop dancing around the question, Shinra."

 

"I see no need."

 

"See no need? You were, I don’t know, the closest thing to an acquaintance he had?"

 

"Do you honestly care if I was?" He answered harshly.

 

"No, not at all. I just want to know why you didn't come to the funeral. Was I always imagining you two talking back in school? I know you two still talked before this, he wasn’t just your patient. So, what the fuck, Shinra?"

 

"Why do you sound so offended? This is Izaya's funeral we're talking about, why do you care?"

 

I was speechless for a few moments.

 

"Just answer the damn question." I reply.

 

"He did this to himself, Shizuo-kun. He got what he deserved,"

 

I did not expect those words to come out of his mouth.

 

"I'm going to hangup now. Don't call me again about this."

 

I flipped my phone shut. I've had enough of all this twisted, fucked up aftermath. Even Shinra was affected. As I turned around to leave I felt someone tapping my shoulder.

 

"Shizuo-kun?"

 

I turned around to face her. An old woman, probably in her 60's. Wrinkled hands and a soft smile to accompany her washed-out face.

 

"Uh, can I help you?"

 

"I have some questions, if you'd be inclined to answer."

 

What the hell could she possibly want from me?

 

"Questions about what?"

 

"Why, my son, of course. He took after me, can't you tell?"

 

This is a fucking joke, right?

 

"You're.. Izaya's mother?"

 

She replied incredibly fast to correct me,

 

"Was. I _was_ his mother."

 

She walked past me to the bench a few feet from us. She slowly sat down and let out a shaky breath. I watched her with mild curiosity as she fiddled with her hands.

 

"There's no one here but us. I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect this. He never had a lot of friends, you know. Only you."

 

Now, it was my turn to correct her.

 

"I was _never_ his friend."

 

"Maybe he wasn’t your friend, but you were his. He would always go on about you. 'Shizu-chan got in another fight today!' Or 'Shizu-chan and I played together again, he can really keep up with me!'. The first time I asked who you were to him, he said you were his friend. His one and only, if I recall correctly. He never mentioned anyone else. Then again, he wasn't himself during those years. Maybe it was a lie after all."

 

A sudden pain in my chest stopped me from speaking. This feeling wasn't foreign to me, unfortunately, but it was still unwelcome and extremely overwhelming. My body felt like lead—so heavy that I could almost not carry the weight any longer.

 

"We never played together. I wasn't his friend, we despised each other. We tried to kill one another every chance we got. In fact, if he was still alive, I'd keep trying."

 

"Have you ever wondered that maybe he wanted that?" She asked with eyes closed.

 

I was starting to get angry. I felt she was purposely trying to enrage me, why else would she question a beast?

 

"Imagine the feeling of being wanted, Shizuo-kun. He probably felt euphoric just contemplating that someone would chase him to the end of the earth. That addiction.. I wouldn't mind having that myself."

 

I dug in my pocket and pulled out my cigarette pack. After lighting, I blew out the smoke and replied, "Sorry, lady, but you're still makin' no sense. Before you can spout anymore bullshit I'm gonna take my leave. Enjoy the funeral."

 

As I walked a few feet, she said in a small voice what my curiosity had been starving for.

 

"I can tell you about Izaya."

 

I stopped in my tracks.

 

Was she playing me?

 

"Not interested."

 

That was a lie. Every fiber of my being was aching to understand this fucked up story. I should've felt wrong for attempting to pry into someone's life. Especially someone that was now dead.

 

"Can you at least answer some of my questions?" She asked.

 

I should've kept walking. I shouldn't have turned around.

 

I didn't want to be a pawn again. That's all I was to everything, to everyone, a pawn. An unpredictable and rash pawn.

 

"Only if you can tell me what that quote meant." I took a drag.

 

"A quote? I don’t know anything about a quote."

 

Ah, that's right. I was the only one who saw it.

 

I exhaled.

 

In the most monotone voice I could manage, I recited the words that were etched into my brain.

 

"And as the cold drowns us, the lights will bring warmth and comfort over us all."

 

She was silent for a few moments. I watched her try to make sense of it.

 

"I'm sorry, Shizuo-kun, but I've never heard that quote before. I think that person might've been very sad. That's all I can tell you."

 

Did I expect her to know? Was I disappointed?

 

Maybe a little.

 

"Yeah, I think so too." I replied.

 

"Did Izaya write that?"

 

Hesitant, I answered in a low voice, "Yeah, he did."

 

As if she understood completely, she stood and walked towards me. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

 

"Don't be too disappointed, I never understood most things he said either. His words made sense to him, but not to the rest. He was always-"

 

I shrugged her hand off.

 

"You talk as if you knew what went on inside his head. You're his mother and you have questions about him? You never understood what he said? Keep your imaginations to yourself, I want no part in pretending I actually knew the flea."

 

Slowly I watched her face contort into sadness. She looked at the ground and after a few moments, I watched as she silently started to sob.

 

_Good, let her cry._

 

"I- I just want to- to know the- to understand- oh my-" She could barely utter her words as the tears streamed down her face.

 

_Annoying._

 

_I'm blowing my only chance._

 

"Alright—okay. Stop crying, I'll answer your questions."

 

She immediately looked up at me and stared into my eyes attempting to confirm that I wasn't lying.

 

"But only on one condition, lady,"

 

I dropped my cigarette on the ground, squishing it with my foot.

 

"I need some coffee. Black."

 

Her voice was sweet and slow as she replied with a smile,

 

"Then would you like to go someplace warm, _my_ _dear_?"

 

Instinctively, I took a step back. That name, that saying—I felt my blood run cold.

 

"Dear, are you alright? You look-"

 

_I was right. She is playing me._

 

I regained my composure and tested my voice as I spoke,

 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

 

Her smile stayed and she spoke with confidence.

 

"Would you like to go now, then?"

 

"Yeah, sure."

 

_I've never going to receive a better opportunity than this moment._

* * *

 

She led me to a small apartment complex. The worn-down paint and narrow balconies didn't fit her. I pictured a much greater, fancier building.

 

"So, you live in Ikebukuro? Didn't expect that."

 

She stopped climbing and placed a hand on the half-broken railing before hesitantly speaking,

 

"Yes.. I do."

 

I didn't pry. Where she lived and why was none of my business. We both continued climbing the stairs. When we arrived at the door to her apartment, I noticed her hands shaking as she was holding the keys. Fragile hands trying to grasp steadiness. I saw scratch marks around the lock.

 

_She does this often._

 

When she finally managed to unlock the door, an old smell hit me. Izaya's apartment. It was nauseating coming across that smell again. This time, however, there was no iron. The next thing I heard was a whisper so silent I thought to have imagined it,

 

"And this—this is my home."

 

"It's, uh, nice?"

 

"Yes, it is. It's very... cozy."

 

Well, this was weird.

 

We both took off our shoes and put them neatly in the genkan. She held out slippers for me to wear.

 

"Let me get that coffee for you. Black, right? No sugar?"

 

"Yeah, thanks."

 

She perked up quickly and walked to her tiny kitchen. It's about the size of the one I have in my apartment. After a few minutes, she returned with black coffee and tea. The tea she made had a sweet yet calming scent. She placed the two hot drinks down on the glass table. She saw me still standing, quite awkwardly, and gestured to the couch.

 

"Please, make yourself comfortable. It might be old but it's-"

 

"Cozy." I finished mockingly.

 

She chuckled at this.

 

I sat down and placed my hands in my lap. I turned to her and looked in her eyes as I picked up my coffee.

 

"So, the questions?"

 

"Ah, yes. I only have a couple, so I hope it won't be so overwhelming."

 

_Oh, trust me, it will be._

 

I sipped my coffee, testing the warmth. Surprisingly, it was perfect temperature. My mother's tea was always perfect temperature, too. It made me nauseous thinking about it.

 

"What was my son like? Back in school, was he a good boy?"

 

I jolted out of my peculiar thoughts and repeated the question in my head.

 

"That's an incredibly disturbing way to word that question. But no, he wasn't a 'good boy'. He fucked with a lot of people and ruined some lives back then. He broke a lot of girls' hearts and never thought about all the damage he caused,"

 

I sipped my drink before finishing.

 

"He was ruthless, manipulative, and a complete stuck-up brat. That's why I hated him."

 

She took all of this in with a calm face. It's as if she knew exactly what he was like, she just wanted to hear what I had to say.

 

"I see."

 

_She hasn't picked up her tea._

 

"How did he meet you?"

 

Really?

 

"He laughed at me. So, I tried to punch him, then he slashed me with his knife."

 

She was still unfazed.

 

"What a... different way to say hello."

 

"Mhm. Got any more questions?"

 

She nodded her head.

 

"Yes, just one. Then, I will tell you about Izaya."

 

She pointed to my coffee. "Would you like another cup?"

 

It was only half finished.

 

"No, thanks."

 

"Alright then." Her hands started shaking, again.

 

"Did he ever.. speak about the people in the walls?"

 

_Oh, fuck._

 

Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. I could feel her beady eyes watching me.

 

"So, he did. I thought so. I knew they were still with him."

 

"They?" I question.

 

"Yes, my dear. The people in the walls—the ghosts."

 

I looked down at the cup in my hands. I couldn't make eye contact with her as I replied,

 

"Yeah, but only once. A week before he killed himself he told me."

 

_That's it._

 

_I couldn't say anymore._

 

_My body wouldn't let me._

 

She scooted closer to me and leaned her face in.

 

_Too close._

 

"Shizuo-kun, look at me. Yes, just like that. It's okay, you didn't know. I didn't believe he told anyone else. It's not your fault."

 

Oh, fuck you.

 

I stood up violently and threw my cup against the wall. I listened to the shattered pieces hit the ground.

 

"What are you saying? I never thought it was. Don't treat me like some damn idiot!" I yelled.

 

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry." Her voice is apologetic but her face—her fucking face says _happy_.

 

God, she's more fucked up than Izaya.

 

"I can see you're angry, allow me to finish our agreement. I will tell you about my son, now. Everything that I know of, and when I stopped trying to understand."

 

I nodded instead of speaking. I knew if I opened my mouth only harsh words would come out. I stood with my arms crossed, I felt too vulnerable sitting near her.

 

"I believe something happened to him as a boy." She starts off.

 

"Yeah? What was it?"

 

She looked away as she breathed,

 

"I'm not sure, my dear. I'm just not sure."

 

I clenched my fists to hold back yelling, I could feel my nails about to break skin. This is a normal coping mechanism for me.

 

She still hasn't finished, what was she waiting for?

 

I was growing impatient.

 

Maybe it was her shaking.

 

"Was it bad?" I ask, feigning sympathy.

 

She looked at me with downturned eyes and replied,

 

"It was very, very bad, Shizuo-kun. But what's worse is that I did nothing at all to help. I was a horrible mother at that time—I still am. Izaya was a very shy boy, you see. He didn't like being in the center of places. He would rather be in the corner."

 

This, I understood. He's always loved to watch.

 

"However, he always smiled, and It was such a _pure_ smile. One of those rare smiles you'd come across possibly, I don’t know, five times in your life? A smile that's contagious and sends warmth all through your body. When you saw it, you felt everything was going to be okay."

 

It was hard trying to imagine Izaya as a child. I never thought about it seriously. There was no point in thinking about someone you hated.

 

"He would come home from school and run in the kitchen to greet me and ask how my day was. He was always so excited about everything. He was constantly moving, thinking, processing—you could see it in his eyes. Everything was so fascinating to him, even my boring old job."

 

I don't speak. I allow her to keep talking. I was growing fascinated the more she described him.

 

"He was an intelligent child. He questioned everything to the point of annoyance. He didn't just question, he wanted to know _why_.

 

_'Mommy, do you believe in God?'_

 

_'Yes, I do.' 'But why?'_

 

_'I don't understand.'_

 

_'Why do you believe? Have you met it?'_

 

_'No, but he exists. He created all of us.'_

 

_'How?'_

 

_'I'm sorry?'_

 

_'How did it create us?'_

 

He just wouldn't stop! It's as if nothing made sense to him unless he knew why." Her face grew sorrowful after this.

 

My stomach was in knots.

 

_This isn't okay._

 

"Then, one day, he came home. He was different, Shizuo-kun. He didn't greet me. He didn’t smile."

 

_What else? What else happened?_

 

"He didn't smile that day, or the next, or the next 11 years. Not those rare smiles, you see. These ones.. They were different. Fake, possibly. They weren't really his." She closed her eyes.

 

"Eleven?"

 

"He left as soon as he graduated. I haven't seen him since. Only glimpses on the street—shadows, imaginations." She let out a breath she was holding.

 

"Did you ever find out what happened?"

 

"No, my dear. I left him alone. I left him alone and I didn't look back." As I opened my mouth to reply, the mantel clock struck noon. The chimes echoed throughout the small apartment. My eyes never left hers and her shaking ceased.

 

As the last chime's echo came to a halt, we were left in silence.

 

As I started to leave she uttered seven words that I know she believed were true.

 

"I know you killed him, you _monster_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There are ghosts in the walls and they crawl in your head through your ear." - La Dispute, Such Small Hands
> 
> Please let me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes! Also Shinra isn't evil, I promise.
> 
> Chapter 3 will be out next week or earlier ^ _ ^


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